


Hot & Bothered

by Cendari



Series: You Can Let Go [2]
Category: Rookie Blue
Genre: Angst, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Hot Sex, Humor, Romance, Sam is a Sex God
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:02:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cendari/pseuds/Cendari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Andy and Sam could have gotten together but didn't. Third time: Hot & Bothered (Cross-posted on FF.net)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot & Bothered

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Rookie Blue - if I did Lukewarm (The King of Douchebag Hypocrites) would have been tarred and feathered in the middle of the precinct instead of Andy trying to cover for him.

More than anything, Sam wishes that he hadn't fobbed Andy off on Oliver because he hadn't wanted to brave the heat again. As far as he's concerned, that's where everything started to go downhill. If only…

Now, because of that one decision, his best friend is in the hospital and his rookie was alone when she faced off with a serial pedophile and had been forced to do something every cop wishes they didn't.

She's taken a life and now has to find a way to get past it. Sure, there's the mandatory counseling sessions with the department shrink to look forward to, but otherwise she'll have an entire week to do nothing but second-guess herself and relive those few minutes over and over again, trying to figure out if there was a way to restrain the evil bastard without having to resort to using her gun.

There wasn't, Sam knows, but it won't stop her from trying. He'd done it, too, in the past. And if Callaghan is any kind of smart, he won't leave Andy's side for a second, if only to be there to soothe the nightmares that are sure to come.

Sam doesn't need beer to drown out the demons – he goes straight for the liquor cabinet and spends a few minutes debating as to whether today was a Jack Daniels, Jim Beam, or Jose Cuervo kind of day. Just as he reaches for the tequila there's a frantic knock on the door. His brow creases with confusion as he goes to answer it; he's not expecting anybody, so who could it be?

Andy stands on his front steps, very nearly twitchy with anxiety. "Hey," she says, not quite meeting his eyes and in the dim lighting he can see that hers are red-rimmed.

"Hey."

"Are you alone?"

The question comes out of left-field and Sam is so caught off-guard that he glances back into the depths of his house, inwardly debating if the named liquor counts, "Yeah." He turns back to her, notes her trembling hands, uneven breaths, the raspy voice that comes from hours of crying your heart out, dilated pupils, and her inability to keep still. "You wanna talk?"

She bites her lip, considering his question and her response, and he has a split second to register the shift in her eyes before her hand is on his sternum, pushing him back into the house. "No."

Then her lips are on his and he is so surprised that his brain shuts down. By the time he comes back to himself, he finds that his body has responded to her anyway and is kissing her back like she's air to a drowning man. He can taste the saltiness of dried tears on her lips and the realization is sobering.

She's not here because she finally saw the light. She's here because she's drowning and Callaghan is missing in action. She's not kissing him because she wants him like he wants her. She's kissing him because she needs to feel alive (and there's no affirmation of life more powerful than sex) and he just happens to be the most convenient male body.

The realization hurts, more than he thought possible, and it's enough to break him out of the haze of hormones that have taken over his body. "Andy," he says, breaking away from her admittedly luscious mouth.

She is undeterred, however, and sucks her way across his jaw and down his neck.

"McNally!" he barks firmly, using his hands to set her away from him and backs away. It seems to work because the film of lust clears from her eyes, quickly replaced with horror and embarrassment.

"Oh, my god," she utters, clapping her hands over her mouth. "Sam, I-… I swear didn't mean to-…" Without warning, she wraps her arms around herself and bursts into tears.

"Aw, hell," Sam mutters under his breath – female tears have the most insidious tendency to unnerve him – and he moves to take her in his arms. "It'll be okay, Andy; it's okay," he repeats directly into her ear, echoing his words from earlier, and rocking her gently to and fro.

Gradually her tense posture relaxes, and then her arms are winding around his waist as she buries her face in his neck. "I'm so sorry," she eventually whispers into his skin.

"I know," he replies as his hold on her tightens, "it's okay."

"No, it's not okay!" she cries, wriggling free. Suddenly, and inexplicably, she's more angry with him than ever before and she shoves herself away from him as if he's contaminated. "It'll never be okay again!"

It's been less than five minutes since she showed up on his doorstep and so far he's counted three mood changes. Her emotions are swinging wildly out of control and it's more than a little worrisome from someone who barely lets on what she's really thinking on a good day. "Andy," Sam says reasonably, "it's okay."

"Don't lie to me!" she snarls. "And don't patronize me either!"

He definitely needs some liquid courage if he's going to deal with her like this and today has turned into a Cuervo kind of day without question. Sam leads Andy into the living room and seats her on the couch before he grabs the bottle of tequila and a pair of shot glasses, completely forgoing the salt and limes. He slams the glasses down on the coffee table, pours them each a shot and picks up one as he hands Andy the other. "Bottoms up," he instructs.

Andy makes a face, but does so anyway, gasping as the potent liquor burns down to her stomach. Sam immediately pours another, which she downs without further protest. "Feeling better?" he asks, voice raspy.

Andy breathes in deeply, and exhales just as heavily; the tequila is warming her from the inside out, but the rage is slowly fading and leaves her feeling hollow in its wake. "Not really."

"Up to talking yet?"

Andy huffs a humorless laugh, "Not really."

"Try." It's not a question.

"I- I just-... I feel so empty, Sam," she says haltingly. "Like I'll never be whole again."

Sam sits on the coffee table directly in front of her - he doesn't think he wants to know the answer to his next question, but he has to know. "Where's Luke, Andy?"

Her next laugh is equally devoid of actual humor. "Where else? He's at the Rec Centre, digging for bones. You know, 'cause it's such a huge case and all."

Sam sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose. That idiot. He pours them each a last shot - because right now the last thing he needs to teach Andy is that drowning this kind of pain in booze will work - and sets the bottle aside. "I'm sorry, Andy."

"Yeah, me too." Despite the dim lighting, peering into her eyes tells Sam all he needs to know about her mental state: the tequila may be loosening her tongue, but her emotional walls are higher than ever and as long as they're up she'll never allow herself to properly grieve, accept it, and move on.

He knows the best way to do so is to work her into physical exhaustion, so she's too tired to keep her shields up, but there aren't too many methods to do so and still keep her intact. She's too agitated to run and would probably wind up hurting herself, same goes for setting her loose on a punching bag or any other gym equipment.

There is another possibility that he's refusing to even think about, never mind consider - that way lays dragons, uncharted territory, and probable suspensions. That doesn't even bring into account the fact that she's technically still involved with Lukewarm-the-Workaholic.

So, that's a no.

Well, he considers, as long as the liquor is loosening her tongue, maybe he can get a few burning questions answered. Worth a shot, anyway. "Why did you come here, Andy? Of all people, of all places, why did you come here?"

Her lower lip trembles momentarily before she's back in control. "You said I could call you if I needed to," she replies hesitantly.

"True, I did. But that doesn't explain why you jumped me when I asked if you wanted to talk."

She searches his face, looking for clues as to his mental state, but he wasn't undercover for eight months for nothing - he has a perfect poker face and uses it to keep his expression neutral but slightly inquisitive. "Because I knew you would make me feel better. Somehow you always have. You make me feel safe, even when everything else is blowing up around my ears. I was terrified going into that basement, jumping at every shadow," Andy has gone deep into her memories, that much Sam can tell, so he gently covers her wringing hands with one of his own, "but I knew that I just had to hang on until you got there."

She flips one of her hands over to entwine her fingers with his, clutching to him with a death-grip. So far, it's about the only physical comfort she's allowed him to give her, but it will do for now. "Somehow you always know when I need you. You don't know how dumb it makes me feel, always needing to be rescued, but you never make me feel incompetent for it. Like with Benny last week, you didn't have to help - actually, you probably should have just let me dangle, especially after I asked Luke to save me from your hangover," she adds with a guilty wince.

Sam had suspected it had been something along those lines, he'd just been relieved to have a chance to nurse his headache in relative peace. At least she and his beloved silver beast had escaped the drive-by unscathed. "Keep talking," he says dryly.

She opens her mouth to reply when the lights flicker and then the house comes alive with a whir.

"Come on," he commands, standing and using their still joined hands to drag her upright as well, "you might as well make yourself useful and help me turn some of this off." Andy is given the job of turning off the TV and the lights in the kitchen, while Sam takes care of the bedrooms.

Partway through, her cell phone rings; Andy checks the call display and only slightly reluctantly answers upon seeing that Luke is checking up on her. "Hi," she greets, slumping down on the sofa and curling up into one corner.

"How are you doing?"

The innocent tone of the question ignites Andy's ire once again. "How do you think I'm doing?" she snaps defensively.

"No need to get angry," he calmly responds. "I just thought you'd want to know that so far we've started recovery on at least ten sets of remains. The coroner will have to examine them, but right now they all look to be little girls between eight and eleven years old. You took down a real predator," he finishes admiringly, though Andy can detect a trace of envy in his tone.

However, her most dominant emotion right now is outrage and it's coming through loud and clear. "Let me get this straight," she starts incredulously, "you're congratulating me on killing someone?"

"He was a rabid dog, Andy, he needed to be put down. You did a good thing." Now that's condescension. A flicker of movement on the edge of her vision brings her head up to find Sam hovering in the doorway; his fists are clenched and there's a vein throbbing in his forehead - Andy figures he's imagining reaching through the phone lines to deck or strangle her boyfriend.

"I don't know why I ever thought this could work," she's thinking aloud now, disbelieving of her own obliviousness in choosing a boyfriend with her so-called head. God, I've been so stupid.

Luke's indignant squawk over the phone lets her know that she said that last part aloud, too. Oops. "Why don't I call you in the morning, since you're obviously distraught and now thinking clearly."

"No, Luke, I'm thinking perfectly for the first time in months. I don't know why I looked up to you in the first place. I can't become a cop like you, moreover I don't ever want to become a cop like you. The day I stop seeing people as people, and start seeing them as things like evidence, is the day I turn in my gun and badge! And in case you've been too distracted by your huge serial killer case and haven't figured it out yet, we're over!" she shouts into the phone. Before he has a chance to rebut, Andy ends the call, shuts her phone off, and tosses it across the room. Then she crosses her arms and sinks into the sofa cushions with an aggravated huff.

Slow applause brings her attention back to Sam, now entering the living room and looking rather proud of her. The sight of his approval brings a warm glow to her chest and an embarrassed tinge of pink to her cheeks.

Of course he's proud of her; he's been waiting for her to stand up for herself to that tool for weeks now, and the resulting show was even better than expected. The only thing that could make it better than that is if she'd done that to Lukewarm's face instead of over the phone.

"I'm sorry you saw that," Andy mutters now, looking at her nails.

Sam walks over and lifts up her feet before sitting down with her legs lying across his lap. "Don't be. I was just there in case you decided to roll over and let him walk all over you again." Andy starts to protest but stops, thinking back. True, she largely has allowed Luke take the lead in their relationship, preferring general acquiescence over rocking the boat.

Also true is that she's done her very best to avoid talking about her parents and her past - opting for letting Luke natter on about this case or that. And come to think of it, making out in front of a murder house after telling her that he'd be out of a job without love is a little creepy.

No, like she told Traci, it was romantic and honest.

Well, if she was less than completely honest about her family history, deliberately neglecting to tell him about her mother leaving and her father's subsequent drinking problem, what is he hiding about his? And what was that Sam had said about Luke picking a different rookie every year? Is it true and, if so, how long has it been going on?

Frustrated by her thoughts, Andy glances at Sam only to find him looking back at her with an expectant expression and rolls her eyes. "Okay, fine, maybe I did let him do that a little," she emphasizes. He chokes off a burst of laughter, trying to disguise it as a cough, and she shoves his shoulder in response before settling back with another huff. "Ass," she mutters and he goes off on another coughing fit while she returns to her thoughts.

Andy thinks back over the past few months and doesn't exactly like what she sees: after a disastrous first day wherein she was so overcome with excitement over her first arrest that she didn't understand when her collar tried to tell her he was undercover (not to mention being held at gunpoint by a scared kid while lacking backup), to the next day when the staff sergeant set her up for the biggest hazing of her life, to that night when she turned down what would probably be the best sex of her life on the flimsy excuse of it being her first week on the job and him being her Training Officer. How stupid could you get?

And then, she turns right around and accepts Luke's invitation for a drink only a couple of days later (while it's still her first week on the job, mind you), in a decision fueled by watching that battered wife keep going back to her husband which was immediately followed by her father getting drunk and picking a fight of his own. So much for choosing with your head.

Goddammit. Just thinking about her decision-making paradigm for the past few months nearly makes her shudder with embarrassment and she covers her face with her hands with a low moan of self-disgust.

How could she go from Sam, who is quite possibly the most loyal, dedicated man she's ever met and who has never failed to put her first in his priorities, to Luke, who is, as his actions tonight bear out, more dedicated to his job than his girlfriend.

She peeks out from between her fingers at Sam, who is now watching her with an amused twinkle in his dark eyes. "Got something to say, McNally?"

Andy lowers her hands to play with the hem of her tank top, very deliberately focusing on finding loose threads and not on her Training Officer's face. "What did you mean, when you said Luke picks a different rookie every year?"

She feels more than hears his reluctant sigh. "Andy..."

She finally meets his eyes, giving him the pleading face that almost never fails to get her what she wants. "Please, Sam?"

He looks away and pinches the bridge of his nose again - he's going to regret this, he just knows it. "All right, put those away," he eventually replies with exasperation. "Now keep in mind, most of this is second-hand stuff I heard here and there down the grapevine: apparently before he made detective, he was pretty hot and heavy with his partner; they were even shacking up together. Now, nobody knows exactly what happened, but one day they were together and the next she was gone to some sort of task force, and he was left behind nursing a broken heart.

"He threw himself into his work, took the Detective's exam a few months later, and got transferred to HQ with the promotion not long after that. Which is when he started taking up with the rookies. From what I understand, his ex is blonde with light-colored eyes, so every girl thereafter has dark eyes and hair." Sam watches with sympathy as Andy pulls some of her hair over her shoulder to stare at the dark strands. "He'd be attentive at first, but his cases would always take priority, and the eventual break-ups weren't exactly pretty. More than one of the girls transferred out not long afterwards.

"When Zoe Martinelli was murdered two years ago, Callaghan got himself appointed as the head of the task force and since she was assigned here, it only made sense for him to work out of here too. Taking up with the rookies didn't start again until after his prime suspect got away because Callaghan didn't have enough evidence to actually charge him, which took a few weeks, but then he went right back to his pattern: young, dark hair, dark eyes, few family connections, usually one with real potential." It nearly breaks Sam's heart to watch Andy shrink into herself with every similarity, but she had asked and he'd be damned if he told her anything but the truth. "I'm sorry, Andy."

"But you said most of it was second-hand, it could just be exaggerated from retelling!" she exclaims desperately. Sam doesn't blame her for trying - it has to hurt to think you're building a relationship with someone and then find out that they were using you to forget about an ex.

"I was here with him for a full year before I started prep to go under," Sam says, "and the rookie he was seeing lasted less than six months with him, and transferred to another division a few weeks later. The TOs generally stay out of it, but ask Oliver about-... damn, what was her name again? Em, em-something Collins - he took up with her a few weeks before I went under and rumor has it that it ended less than well."

To her dismay, Andy can feel more tears welling up in her eyes and looks back down at her lap before Sam sees them. "Thank you for telling me," she chokes out.

Once again his hand appears in her line of vision to cover hers, entangling their fingers together. "I'm sorry I didn't make you listen before."

Andy's shoulders quake as she tries to figure out just how things got to this point. And then she remembers the little girl in the ice cream truck, running for her life, and the Rec Centre, and the man she killed, and she can't believe she's here worrying about her love life when a man's death can be laid directly at her feet.

Suddenly overwhelmed, Andy bursts into tears. Within moments she's being lifted off the couch and settled on Sam's lap as he wraps his arms tightly around her. He murmurs soothing nonsense into her ears, letting her know that she's not alone, occasionally pressing a kiss to her hair, and rubs his hands up and down her back, but always encourages her to just let it out, that she'll feel a bit better once she does.

Eventually, totally exhausted by the heat and stress and grief, Andy cries herself to sleep. Sam peers down at her, regarding his soaked t-shirt and the slender hands clenched in the same. With a tired sigh, he lifts her in his arms and carries her towards the bedrooms, whacking the light switch with an elbow as he passes by, and ultimately decides to place her in his own room since none of the other beds are made up.

He gently places her on his bed, where he's fantasized her presence more times than he cares to count, and considers the problem of her jeans. She'll probably be uncomfortable sleeping in them, but taking them off while she's asleep more than probably crosses that Training Officer-Rookie line.

Before he can make a decision, Andy drifts into semi-consciousness and takes it out of his hands by shimmying out of her jeans and tossing them off to the side. Her tank top quickly follows and she's just reaching for her sports bra when Sam breaks out of his hormone-induced stupor and stops her.

Very deliberately not thinking about the perfection laid out before him, Sam carefully tucks her in, covering her up to her chin - she may get overheated in a few minutes, but hopefully the covers won't get flung off until after he beats a strategic retreat. Sam brushes her hair off her face with gentle fingers and freezes when Andy stirs, rolls over onto her stomach, and buries her face in his pillow.

Even in sleep, she still looks troubled, but her features seem to relax just a bit as her breaths even out and deepen.

It takes every ounce of willpower Sam possesses to turn away and leave the room.

RBRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRB

Not long after Sam finally falls into an anxious doze, he's awakened by a high-pitched wail of agony that breaks off into gasping sobs. He's off the bed in an instant and bursts into his bedroom in four bounding steps.

Andy is in the middle of the bed, sitting up, but her head is bent over the knees that have been pulled to her chest, desperately wringing her trembling hands. Between one breath and the next, Sam is sitting beside her and cautiously puts his hand on her hair, wary of being the cause for an epic freak-out. To his relief, she doesn't pull away, though she gasps loudly and shudders when he first touches her and he knows that she's still caught in the depths of her nightmare.

"McNally," he starts firmly, "it was just a dream. You're safe, okay? Nothing can hurt you here, not as long as I'm around. I'm here, Andy, and you're safe."

"S-S-Sam," she stutters out, ending on a low moan. One hand reaches out, blindly searching for him, and that clinches it for him. He picks her up, shifts to the centre of bed, and leans back against the headboard. He settles her sideways in his lap and holds her tightly, pressing her head down on his chest so she can listen to his heartbeat.

"I'm here," he repeats, "you're safe." She's still crying, still reliving her dream so Sam instructs her to tell him what her dream was about. "McNally," he growls when she doesn't respond right away.

She sucks in another shuddering breath and starts talking, her voice so low Sam strains to hear her, "I'm back in the Rec Centre, walking through the basement, and my flashlight is just bouncing off the walls, and I'm jumping at every shadow and every sound, and my heart is pounding so loudly I'm sure it's echoing.

"Then I hear a whimper - small, scared - and I look down and that little girl is gagged with duct tape and the look in her eyes... God, Sam, she was so scared and she was looking at me to save her, but I couldn't, and-and..." Andy can feel more tears pricking at her eyes, but she needs to get this out.

"And then I heard a sound, and I turn around and he's right there, stuffing something into a bag, and I told him to stop, to put his hands up, and he did but he started walking towards me. I dropped my flashlight on the ground, and it's throwing shadows across his face and making him look like a demon, and I can see Oliver's gun in his waistband and I'm pointing mine at him, and all I want was for you to just hurry up and get there and tell me what to do.

"And then he stops, and I'm still shouting at him, and then he goes for the gun, and I-... I panic," she confesses, her voice breaking. For probably the first time ever, Sam is grateful to his sister for teaching him how to comfort traumatized women after a nightmare.

"I pulled the trigger, and the gun is jerking in my hands, and he just- he just shudders and drops, and he's just lying there with his eyes open and these holes in his chest, and I can't look away. But then I blink and when I look again it's not that pervert lying there, it's you, and you're dead 'cause I- 'cause I killed you, and I'm trying to get to you but I can't move no matter how hard I try, and I'm screaming at you to wake up and that I'm sorry but you don't, and then I wake up."

By the time she finishes describing it, Andy has silent tears streaking down her cheeks as her shoulders heave with suppressed sobbing, and she is giving every impression of trying to burrow directly into Sam's skin. He doesn't mind, and is wrapped so tightly around her that he's not quite sure where he ends and she begins. Her face is buried in his neck and Sam's cheek is resting on top of her head while her tears burn into him like acid.

"I'm right here," he murmurs. "I'm safe; I'm fine. No extra holes; no blood." Sam grabs one of her hands and places it on his chest approximately where she'd shot the pedophile so she can feel the unmarred skin for herself. "See? You didn't hurt me, and you were only defending yourself from someone who had already shown that he didn't care about hurting cops, okay? I know it doesn't feel like it and you don't believe me, but you did the right thing, Andy.

"How about instead of focusing on the misspent life that ended, you remember the lives you saved? Like the little girl? And Oliver? If you hadn't been there, that bastard wouldn't have hesitated to shoot him again when he went back upstairs."

Andy shudders and sniffles, but she's stopped crying, so Sam knows she's listening intently.

"You remember when we first started riding together, and I told you that you could ask me about anything you needed to know and that I would always be honest with you?" It's a single twitch of her head, but it is a nod. "So you know I'm not lying to you now when I tell you that what happened today will never get easier and it always sucks, but it's a hazard of the job. You may get to the point where the only deaths you really regret are the senseless ones, when there might have been another way out, but the day you stop caring completely is the day you need to turn in your badge," he says firmly, to a reply of another tiny nod.

"I'm afraid to go back to sleep," she whispers into his skin. "I don't want to see it any more."

Sam sighs and resettles his arms around her. "You can't just not sleep, McNally."

"Make me forget, Sam? Please? I don't want to see it any more," she repeats as softly, lifting her head to look him in the eye.

The room is almost pitch-black but Sam can still see the desperate, pleading expression on her face as if it was full daylight. "Andy," he breathes, still hesitant. He has an idea of what she has in mind, but if he follows through and she rejects him later, his bruised, fragile heart will shatter into a million pieces. At the same time, though, so far his other methods of coping have failed to help and her pain is like a physical thing, stabbing him in the chest.

"Please, Sam?" she asks again, voice wobbling dangerously.

He caves like a house of cards and presses a kiss to her forehead. "It's okay, I've got what you need." He won't take things too far, not while her fragile emotional state leaves her so vulnerable, but he knows that she won't get any rest at all unless he can get her so far past exhausted that she simply passes out.

With that in mind, he goes slowly, trying not to startle or otherwise discomfit her, and slowly trails his lips down her nose until he reaches the tip of it, where he pauses for a second before reversing and heading back up to her forehead. He plants soft, gentle kisses across her temple and down her cheek, flicking his tongue at the end of her chin, and then heads up the other side of her face, gradually drawing a heart shape with his lips.

He knows when Andy catches on to the pattern because her breath hitches as she whispers his name wonderingly. He finishes his artwork with a tender kiss to the end of her nose, eliciting a wet-sounding giggle. Sam pulls back to check on her, to make sure she's still okay with where this is headed, and the next thing he knows her lips are ravaging his, her arms are winding around his neck, and her legs are suddenly straddling his lap.

He responds with alacrity, but is careful to hold himself in check: this is supposed to be about her, after all. His hands grab her hips, holding her aloft and unable to join their pelvises together, which she protests with a disappointed mewl but is quickly distracted with the game their tongues seem to be playing.

Sam breaks their kiss and uses his grip on her to raise her body high enough for him to comfortably reach her breasts, still encased in the sports bra; he doesn't care and nuzzles a hardened nipple through the fabric. Andy's hands find his head, fingers sifting through the surprisingly soft hair, and hold him there, her nails digging into his scalp when he closes his lips around his find and begins to suckle.

Trusting her to be enamored enough with what he's doing to her chest to stay put, Sam releases her hips long enough to strip the bra off, and then he's face-to-breasts with the most perfect pair he's ever seen. They're round and full, a perfect handful, with large aureoles and pebbled, strawberry-tinted nipples.

One hand comes up to cup, weigh, and massage, which she appears to like if the way she's chanting his name is any indication, and returns to worshipping the flawless bounty laid out before him with lips and tongue.

Just when her moans start to change to whimpers, Sam releases her and switches, starting the exploratory process all over again. Andy has, quite possibly, the softest skin he's ever come across - smooth and supple, with the faintest scent of that jasmine lotion she uses that drives him crazy wanting to taste and touch.

He can also smell the proof of her arousal, musky and tart, rising up between them, and he really wants to find out if she tastes as good down there as she appears to everywhere else. With that in mind, Sam slides them down the bed until they're lying flat and then flips them over so he's on top. Rather reluctantly abandoning her breasts, Sam leaves a trail of fire down Andy's stomach as he kisses and sucks his way south.

Andy arches her back and digs her fingers into his scalp, trying to guide him to where she needs him most, and Sam appears to obey her demands until he drops a kiss on the apex of her mound and then veers sideways down one leg, pausing only to nuzzle at her hipbones. Her agonized whimper tears at his heart but he won't be distracted from his mission.

Sam gives each leg the same treatment, kissing his way down, nibbling on her toes a bit, and then moving back up. Finally, he reaches the apex of her thighs, his ultimate goal, and has to stop to breathe her in. Andy's trembling and whimpering, breathing hard and chanting his name around the fist she's stuffed in her mouth. "Ah-ah-ah," Sam chides with a flash of dimples, reaching up to pull her hand from her mouth. "I want to hear you, McNally; every sigh, every moan, every scream - don't hold back on me now."

Andy complies with his order by moaning his name when he takes her hands and wraps them around the slats of his headboard. "Don't move 'em one inch," he adds with another smile. Sam leans in and kisses her deeply, which Andy takes advantage of by wrapping her legs around his waist. "Now who's the evil one? Trying to distract me... Bad Andy."

"Sam!" Andy protests when he unwinds her legs far enough to slide back down her body. This is where he has to be cautious: if he's not careful, she'll just explode with the first touch and while that would be great fun any other time, he needs to make this last. So he distracts her momentarily by swirling his tongue in her navel before blowing a raspberry in the soft curve of her belly just below.

He drapes her thighs over his shoulder, settling comfortably between them as he considers paradise. She's still wearing her panties, which are standard white, soaked completely through, and nearly transparent. Andy is almost completely bare underneath them, which is a bigger turn-on than it probably should be, and Sam can't stop himself from pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her covered mound which makes her hips surge upwards and her back arch as she yodels her approval.

He hooks his hands around her thighs, holding her down, and delicately laps at her through the fabric. For once she's actually following orders by not trying to muffle the sounds of her pleasure, and her whimpering gasps and prayers are almost too much for him to take. As fantastic as she smells, she tastes even better and Sam simply covers as much of her with his tongue as possible, trying to absorb every bit of her flavor.

Andy's beyond words by now, reduced to moaning her approval, and she's not sure how much more torture she can take. Sam seems to sense the moment she's about to plummet over the precipice into ecstasy and backs off, the bastard. Finally, finally, he removes her underwear, tossing it off to parts unknown, but she doesn't care because he's settled back between her legs and what feels like it could be the tip of his nose has nestled between her folds and is just barely touching the tight, swollen bud of her clitoris.

She's panting like she's been running a marathon and Sam can see and feel the muscles in her stomach and thighs pulsing and quivering. To distract her a bit more, he reaches up and roughly tweaks one of her nipples between her fingers. The pleasure-pain streaks straight down her body to her centre and Andy moans around a shudder.

Sam starts around the edges, lapping up every drop of her essence that he can find, slowly making his way to her centre, where she needs and wants him most. She needs pressure, and friction, and enough with the teasing already! When the tip of his tongue finally slides between her her folds and delicately brushes that little bundle of nerves Andy cries out wordlessly, her entire body trying to surge off the bed.

Sam's so fascinated by Andy and her body and its reactions to him that it's not difficult for him to ignore the urgings of his own raging hormones. He hooks his arms around her thighs again, using the tips of his fingers to gently pull her folds apart just a bit more and then there he is, looking straight into the gates of paradise.

He has to pause for a second to give thanks before giving that little button another nudge with the tip of his tongue, gaining a broken sob for his efforts. Sam explores every inch of her centre with careful attention - when he pushes his tongue just inside her entrance and wiggles it a bit, her hands abandon the headboard and tangle in his hair, digging her nails into his scalp.

Sam gingerly pushes a finger into her and she's so wound up that he has to use more force than expected as those internal muscles clamp down hard on his hand. Half a dozen times Andy gets so close to climax she can smell and taste it, but Sam always seems to know and brings her back down from the peak just in time.

By the time he is ready for her to let loose she's practically sobbing with frustration, trembling hard with the force of unfulfilled arousal,and would probably threaten to kill him if she could find the air or the words. Sam probes at the inside of her sheath, now looking for the spot he has deliberately avoided - at the same instant that he finds it he seals his lips around her clitoris and sucks hard.

Andy screams as she bursts into the most intense orgasm of her life, her whole body convulsing and clenching with the force of it. Sam lashes his tongue over her clit and presses that special spot again, forcing her body into climax after climax, rolling them over each other until Andy feels like one giant starburst of ecstasy. With one final spasm of pleasure, her world goes white.

RBRBRBRBRBRBRB

When Andy wakes, she is lying on her stomach on a strange bed in a strange bedroom, with sunlight streaming in around partially closed blinds, and she's alone. The bedding smells familiar, and just the scent of it makes her relax.

Andy turns her head to look at the other side of the bed and discovers her clothing, neatly folded, placed near the other pillow. Sitting on top is what appears to be a note, her cell phone, and a single key on a novelty keychain; Andy rolls on to her back and picks the note up - the author's handwriting is unmistakable and she smiles despite herself.

 _"Good morning Sunshine,"_ the note reads. _"I was going to wake you before I left, since not all of us are getting a week-long vacation, but you looked so exhausted I didn't have the heart to._

_You have the run of the house, feel free to raid the fridge and cupboards for whatever you need. The key is in case you need to leave for whatever reason - the code for the alarm is: 72724._

_I'll call around noon to check up on you. In the meantime, take it easy, would you?_

_Sam"_

Andy's smile softens; they definitely have to talk about what happened last night, but she has zero plans to cry rape or anything similar. Andy has never had an experience like that before: where her partner would put her needs so far above his that he would completely ignore his own. She'd never felt so loved.

So... _cherished._

Ever.

In her entire lifetime.

Just remembering what he'd done to her with those hands, those lips, and Jesus, that tongue... She shivers as a rush of warmth settles deep in her belly.

Andy waits for the panic to appear, waits to feel the urge to run, but this is _Sam_ she's talking about. Sam Swarek, the man who has mentored and protected her, demonstrating every day what it means to be a decent, reasonably mature human being and an even better cop. Andy can no more run from Sam than she could stay with anyone else.

Well, since picking someone with her so-called "head" didn't work out so well, there's only one thing left to do, isn't there?

RBRBRBRBRBRBRB

Later, when Andy greets Sam at the door, clad only in a fire-engine-red, satin and lace bra and panty set, she barely gives him time to close the door (or fully appreciate the view) before she pounces, sealing her mouth over his in a sizzling brain-melter of a kiss.

Sam pulls back long enough to say her name questioningly with an added "Wha-?" before she lays another kiss on him that could stop a train.

Andy breaks away and sucks her way down his neck. "Sam?" she murmurs into his skin.

"Yeah?" he responds shakily. He's not quite sure what's gotten into her, but he's not about to push his luck by asking.

"Take me to bed?"

Sam responds by hoisting her into his arms - Andy's legs wrap around his waist as if by reflex as her hands sift through his hair, nails gently scratching his scalp. He hisses out a breath and captures her earlobe in his mouth, gently worrying it with his teeth as he hustles them back to his bedroom. He can feel the heat of her through his clothing and its starting to make him crazy.

He tumbles them onto the bed, eagerly removing his shirt and her bra, and Andy fits herself to him, skin to skin, and her hardened nipples are poking into his chest. She stops Sam when he tries to remove her underwear and rolls them over until she's on top. Andy flashes him a wicked smile with her " My turn!" and Sam can feel his groin tighten with anticipation.

She kisses him thoroughly, finding his flat nipples with her fingers and rubbing them, surprising a moan out of him. Andy can't stop her chuckle and separates their lips so she can laugh, still snickering as she kisses her way back down his jaw and throat.

Her humor is infectious and Sam finds himself grinning too, even as she does things to him that should be illegal. She pauses to nibble on his collarbone, and leaves a trail of fire across his chest as she searches out his nipples with her lips. When she finds one and closes her lips around it to suckle, a curse escapes Sam's throat as his hips surge up.

Andy pays an equal amount of attention to the other nipple before she nips and sucks her way down his stomach, his muscles jumping and clenching under her attentions. She plays with his navel for a minute, flickering her tongue in and around it, as her hands make quick work of his belt. Unfastening his jeans takes a bit more effort, thanks to his erection pounding against the zipper, trying desperately to get out.

She kneels between Sam's legs and draws his jeans and shorts down and off in one smooth movement. His erection rebounds against his belly, reaching almost to his navel, and Andy can't help but stop to admire. He's long and thick, twitching and waving at her, and she feels rush of heat between her thighs at the thought of actually getting that monster inside her. Had she known he was hiding that in his pants from the beginning, she probably would have been all over him like white on rice - and to hell with Luke. What exactly had she been thinking turning this man down? Oh wait, she hadn't. Stupid.

Well, now is her chance to make up for it.

Andy shuffles in closer, kneeling between his thighs again, and plants her hands on either side of his hips. She leans in close to inhale the essence of Sam, and his cock jumps up to tap her on the nose. She can't help the laugh that escapes her, even as Sam begins to look mortified, but she quickly soothes any embarrassment by wrapping her fingers around him, taking his measure.

He's so wide that her fingers barely overlap and there's another corresponding surge of heat in her lower belly. Andy softly kisses the blunted head and laps up the bead of wetness that appears at the tip, making a harsh groan rip from Sam's throat above her. She explores him, trying to map every square inch with her tongue, and uses her free hand to cup the heavy sac that hangs below. She gently rolls the globes of his testicles in her palm before she closes her lips over his head and starts to suck.

Sam's hips thrust upward again and he's breathing hard, trying to maintain the leash on his control. Andy opens her jaw a bit wider and slides farther down on him, beginning to bob her head as she takes a bit more with every downstroke.

Sam is beyond words as he sinks his fingers into the satiny softness of her hair and cups the back of her head, encouraging her with gentle pressure. His moans and sighs of pleasure egg her on, teaching her what he likes. For several minutes it's just him and her and the hot, wet cavern of her mouth on his cock. Finally he feels the familiar tightening in the base of his spine and his balls. "Andy. Andy, I'm going to-..." he tries to warn her, to give her the opportunity to pull away.

She deliberately looks him straight in the eyes as she takes as much of him into her mouth as she can, and reaches below his sac to carefully stroke the soft flesh of his perineum while she starts to hum. Sam's eyes roll back into his head as he explodes with a shout; the hot pulses of his release jet into the back of Andy's throat and she's working overtime to swallow it all. He tastes rather salty-sweet with a hint of musk, but she thinks she can detect a trace of citrus (she's heard of using diet to influence intimate flavors before, and now vows to do more research into it).

When he's relaxed and panting, Andy catches his eye again and swallows exaggeratedly. Sam's eyes light up and before she knows it he's hauled her up his body to meld his mouth to hers, not seeming to notice or mind the taste of himself on her lips as he kisses her deeply. "That was the most incredible-..." Sam marvels, unable to find the words to complete the sentence, after he momentarily releases her. "You amaze me," he adds softly. "Can I ask what brought that on?"

Sam watches, fascinated, as a tender look appears in her eyes and she shrugs. "Part of it was to thank you, both for helping me last night and the last few months in general," Andy says, not oblivious to the way his expression flattens and cools. "Mostly, though," she continues, "I wanted to make you feel like I did last night and this morning. I've never felt so... loved before. You made me feel like I was adored, and, and cherished, like I was being worshipped. Like I was worthy of it."

He catches her face in his hands and looks her directly in the eyes, needing her full attention for what he's about to say. "You are," he responds firmly. "You are all of those things and more." It's as close to an actual declaration as he's ever come and, remembering what she told Callaghan about running when things get serious, he tries to prepare himself for her to bolt.

Andy's eyes fill with tears when she realizes that he's speaking seriously, that he honestly believes it, and she has to kiss him lest she start bawling. When she pulls away that soft, tender expression is back on her face as she searches for the words she wants. "The feeling is entirely mutual," she finally says, hoping he understands.

She can see the change come over Sam as he slowly brightens, his eyes searching hers, and suddenly she's on her back with him looming over her. Andy wraps her arms around him as he lowers his upper body to fully rest upon hers, taking her lips in a thorough, drugging kiss. Sam's skin is still overheated, his body is a solid, reassuring weight upon hers, that light dusting of chest hair is gently abrading her diamond-hard nipples in interesting and arousing ways, and Andy could happily stay here like this forever.

Sam's had time to recover and Andy soon feels an insistent prodding between her legs. She smiles into their kiss at the same time he does, and he reaches between them to test her readiness - not that it's necessary, she's been ready to go since before he got home - and encounters nothing but soaked red lace and hot flesh. He groans when his renewed erection brushes against the lace of her panties and fastens his lips to the soft skin below her ear as he swiftly removes the flimsy barrier separating them. "Christ, Andy," he mutters.

Andy's back arches when he finally touches her, skin to skin, and she wraps her legs around his waist with alacrity. "Now, Sam," she implores. "I don't want to wait any more. Make love to me."

He can no more deny her this than he could her request last night, and positions himself at her entrance. She is impatient with the desire that's been shimmering through her veins all day, and presses her heels into the muscled cheeks of his rear, pulling him into her.

Andy is hot and wet and god, so freaking tight, and Sam thinks that the top of his head might blow off by the time they're done. She whimpers and moans as he fills her, slowly and inexorably sliding home, while her inner muscles flutter and pulse around him as she struggles to accommodate him. "Oh God, Sam," she moans in his ear. "Oh, you feel so good."

Sam is so caught up in the sensation of feeling her tight sheath surrounding him that he barely hears her. Once he's sure that he won't just explode the second he moves, Sam withdraws from her ever-so-slowly until just his tip is still resting inside her. Andy whimpers a protest when she feels him leave her, her back arching, but he's already surging back into her with a force that sends shivers up her spine when he bottoms out.

Sam sets up a smooth, driving rhythm, one hand coming up to cup and massage those perfect breasts that he's been unable to get out of his mind all day. Andy is wrapped around him, kissing his neck, nibbling on his earlobe, whispering hot encouragement in his ear, even as he tells her how hot and tight she is, how good she feels wrapped around him, how beautiful she is, how much he loves what she does to him.

Andy crashes into her orgasm without any warning, gasping and keening, those fantastic inner muscles of hers gripping and clasping at him. Sam presses as deep within her as he can and stills long enough for her to recover a bit, gently tweaking her strawberry-colored nipples the entire time, and delivers a smacking kiss to her lips. "All right?"

The smile Andy flashes him is euphoric as she applies an internal squeeze that makes him hiss before she captures him for a longer, deeper kiss. "God, yes. I've got at least one more of those in me, so don't stop now."

Sam chortles and does as he's told, pulling almost the entire way out before he thrusts back into her so hard her breasts jiggle. Andy squeaks in surprise at the force but is far from protesting as she attaches her lips to his throat, roughly nipping and sucking at the column of flesh. "Give it to me, Sam," she urges, "give me all you've got."

Sam burrows his free hand down between them and thumbs her throbbing, swollen clitoris with callus-roughened digits. Andy's moan turns into an ascending cry of pleasure as he drives her back up the mountain. She chants his name along with calls to God with increasing volume as her body tightens with anticipation. A few hard thrusts, each draging a wordless exclamation from her chest, before Sam leans down and sinks his teeth into the curve of her shoulder.

The sharp sting of pleasure-pain sends Andy thundering into her second climax of the night. This time Sam doesn't let up and keeps plunging into her depths with increasing force, pressing through a quivering, clenching internal grip so tight his eyes nearly roll back in his head. Andy's chest is heaving and her eyes glimmer with exhaustion, but Sam is bound and determined to wring one more orgasm from her incredibly giving body. "One more," he urges in her ear. "Come on, Andy, give me one more."

"Is that it? That's all you've got?" she asks tauntingly between gasps of air.

Sam quirks an eyebrow as he accepts her challenge with a grin. He hooks his arms under her legs and forcibly unwinds them from around his waist, pressing down until she's nearly bent double. The change in position causes the wide, blunt head of his erection to pass over that magical spot he found with such success last night, and Andy squeaks every time he nudges it.

"Let go, Sam," Andy orders quietly. "I want to feel it, I need to feel it; let go for me, Sam."

"You first," he grunts back. One particularly forceful thrust does more than nudge her special spot before he bottoms out, deeper than he's ever been. Andy seizes around him with a strangled cry, sucking in oxygen like crazy. Sam rotates his hips in a little circle, his pelvis mashing her clitoris between their bodies, and Andy releases a shuddering cry, clamping down hard.

Her body seems to explode like a supernova, an actual, honest-to-god full body climax screaming through her every nerve, heightening every sensation. She can feel everything: the sleek muscles of Sam's shoulders and back under her hands; the evening stubble on his face against her neck; the bunched muscles in his hair-roughened arms under her knees; every bump, ridge and vein of the steely rod plundering her insides; the corded tendons in Sam's neck as his head drops backwards with a roar escaping from his chest; the hot, hot pulses of his release pumping deep into her belly.

Someone's screaming, she thinks dimly, only to realize that it's herself chanting a combination of his name, "YES!", and "OH GOD!". When all is said and done Sam releases her legs, which flop limply to the bed on either side of his, and he collapses onto her with a groan. He's solid and heavy with relaxed muscle, but Andy couldn't care less. She is safe and warm, completely and totally satisfied, surrounded by the man she is slowly coming to realize she can't live without.

"Wow," he huffs, his breath and heartbeat gradually slowing as the sweat covering his body cools.

"Wow," Andy agrees.

Sam captures her mouth in a sweet kiss, a reassuring glide of lips and tongues, trying to express all the emotions he's not allowed to speak yet. He rolls off her, slipping out of her sheath with regret, and settles on his back. "Best ever," he confirms with a jaw-cracking yawn as Andy snuggles into his side.

Andy hums agreeably under her breath, already falling asleep. She's completely exhausted - three earth-shaking orgasms in a row can do that to a person - and can feel her eyelids drooping despite her best efforts.

"Get some sleep, Andy."

She yawns widely in his face, settles her head on his shoulder, and goes limp with relaxation. "Love you," she breathes. She's out a heartbeat later.

Meanwhile Sam's breath stalls in his lungs as his heart starts to pound again. "I love you, too," he whispers, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. He's fairly sure she won't remember saying it come morning, but he files her subconscious confession away in the deepest parts of a heart that is rapidly mending.

There's still the problem of him being her Training Officer, and not wanting to pass the privilege on to one of the others. Sam knows that nobody can train her to be the kind of cop she's meant to become except him, but there will only be a problem if they get caught. That means laying some ground rules for general conduct while on duty or anywhere someone they know might see them. However, rumor has it that Boyko is on the way out, and all of his potential replacements have serious money in the precinct pool.

Sam puts all of that out of his mind; the woman he has been torturing himself over for months actually loves him back - everything else is just gravy.

He plants another lingering kiss to her forehead and closes his eyes. It feels like a massive weight has been lifted off his chest - tomorrow he'll do a victory dance, but for tonight nothing exists except the incredible woman in his arms, in his bed.

_God, I love this girl._

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> That's all for now folks; please review, they're like air and they inspire me to write more!
> 
> Also, for anyone who's interested, the title of You Can Let Go comes from a song of the same name by Backstreet Boys - I thought it was accurate and appropriate, and have included the lyrics below:
> 
> [Verse 1]  
> I can see in your eyes  
> Broken windows, fallen skies  
> Baby, baby what you hidin' from  
> The light that followed you around  
> Lately nowhere to be found  
> Don't you know that I'm your place to run
> 
> [Chorus]  
> You been holding on so long  
> Tryin' to make believe that nothing's wrong  
> Not letting it show  
> And there ain't nothing you can do  
> To make me turn away from you  
> I need you to know
> 
> That you can let go
> 
> [Verse 2]  
> Sifting through shattered dreams  
> Livin' in the in between  
> Baby, babe it's gonna be alright  
> (You can let go)  
> When you're lost, let down, disappointed  
> And jerked around in this cold, cold world  
> I will always be by your side
> 
> [Chorus]  
> You been holding on so long  
> Tryin' to make believe that nothing's wrong  
> Not letting it show  
> There ain't nothin' you can do  
> To make me turn away from you  
> I need you to know
> 
> That you can let go
> 
> [Bridge]  
> Don't be afraid when you're falling apart  
> Don't hesitate I'll be right where you are  
> Open your eyes there's a crack in the dark
> 
> Never let me see you cry  
> You locked it somewhere deep inside  
> Baby, baby let me hold you tight
> 
> Make it alright
> 
> Baby, baby gonna be alright  
> Cause I'm by your side  
> When the whole world turns against you (I won't turn against you)  
> Not letting it show  
> Baby, babe gonna be alright  
> Cause I'm by your side  
> When the whole world turns against you  
> You can let go
> 
> You been holding on so long  
> Tryin' to make believe that nothing's wrong  
> Not letting it show  
> You can let go  
> There ain't nothing you can do  
> To make me turn away from you  
> I need you to know.
> 
> Thanks again for your support!


End file.
